


dancing backwards

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actor Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester in Heels, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Photographer Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: Cas hears Dean Winchester come into the bathroom, but he’s too busy fiddling with equipment to acknowledge him at first, until Dean says, “So like, is there someone I can sue when I break my ankles?”Cas looks up to see the pair of pale pink stilettos hanging from his fingertips. The only thing he’s wearing is a long, dingy skirt with layers and layers of tulle like a tutu and dark, smudged eyeliner.





	dancing backwards

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon who sent the prompt: _Dean wears high heels for the first time._
> 
> thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com) :)

Cas is very, very good at his job, though he has no patience for the theatrics he sometimes encounters when shooting celebrities. Some of them really hate when he doesn’t recognize them, and then they really hate when he doesn’t pander to their whims and whines. Cas is here to take pictures, not kiss asses. 

Cas hears Dean Winchester come into the bathroom, but he’s too busy fiddling with equipment to acknowledge him at first, until Dean says, “So like, is there someone I can sue when I break my ankles?” 

Cas looks up to see the pair of pale pink stilettos hanging from his fingertips. The only thing he’s wearing is a long, dingy skirt with layers and layers of tulle like a tutu and dark, smudged eyeliner. 

Cas looks at him with a frown, considering. “We can start with them off. I like the way you’re holding them.” 

“I’m Dean,” Dean says, reaching out to where Cas is kneeling on the floor. “Winchester.” 

Cas shakes his hand. “Castiel Novak. Cas is fine.” 

“Yeah, I know — your shit is really amazing. Kinda hoping I won’t ruin your art with my dumb face,” Dean says with a teasing smile. 

Cas stands and squints at Dean’s face. “I can always crop you out later.” 

Dean tosses his head back in a laugh, and Cas has the urge to rush to his camera and hope he can catch it on film. “I’ll try to keep my face out of the frame. Where do you want me?” 

The bathroom is big as far as bathrooms go, but still a tight space with both them and minimal equipment. Cas gestures nearer to the tub, picking up his camera while Dean moves. “A little to the left.” 

Dean shuffles. “Here?” 

Cas adjusts his lens, takes a couple quick shots. “Good. Turn your wrist like this to show the shoes. And — may I touch you?” 

Dean looks surprised. Probably not many people ask. “Yeah, sure.” 

Cas tugs the skirt down on one side to show off Dean’s hip, like a lover has started to undress him. He steps back to consider, then moves it just a little further, surprised to find a tan line. 

He adjusts Dean’s hair a bit, wishes there was lipstick to smear. Dean’s eyes are spring green, and he doesn’t react to Cas’s ministrations other than to move exactly where he’s guided. 

“Perfect,” Cas says. “But I don’t want perfect. Keep this pose in mind, but be natural. You look like you’ve just been taken like a lover, so play with that a little.” 

“I look like I just got my face fucked, you mean,” Dean says, smiling. 

Cas tilts his head. “Essentially.” 

“While in drag.” 

“Are you uncomfortable with this? We can find a different outfit.” It’s pointless to shoot someone who’s legitimately mentally uncomfortable with the situation. Stiffness isn’t interesting on camera. 

“Nah, it’s cool,” Dean says. “Haven’t worn heels before, but I’ll figure it out.” 

Cas steps back and snaps a few pictures. “Can you be shy?” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “I think I can handle that.” 

He lowers his chin, eyelashes cast downwards, lips parted. He’s shockingly beautiful, and Cas moves around to see him from all angles,  _ click-click-click.  _

“Cocky, please,” Cas says 

“I didn’t know we were taking  _ that  _ kind of pictures,” Dean says, and he does the laugh again, but Cas gets it on film this time. 

“Arrogant. Like you’re an excellent cocksucker.” 

Dean snorts, and then his face changes in an instant, little smirk on his mouth, head tilted back, his thumb hooking at the lowered side of the skirt as if to reveal more. 

“Good,” Cas says.  _ Click-click-click-click.  _ “Ok. Shoes on.” 

Dean grimaces. “Just don’t take pictures when I fall on my ass.” 

_ Click-click-click _ as Dean bends over and pushes his foot in the first one. “How did they even find my size?” 

“Women have large feet too.” 

Putting on the second heel is precarious, to say the least, and Dean stands up slowly, wide-legged and his arms out to the side for balance. “Holy shit, this is horrible.” 

“Women are mandated to do it every day.” 

“I know, dude. It’s fucked up.” 

Cas gives Dean half of a smile, and  _ click-click-click _ when Dean smiles back. “When you’re ready, I need you to not stand like… that.” 

“This isn’t sexy?” 

“No, I don’t believe so.” 

Dean is so full of joyful laughter. This time it makes him stumble backwards into the wall. 

“We’ll just do a couple standing,” Cas says. “You can lean against the wall, but yes, look — prettier.” 

“Aww, Cas. You don’t think I’m pretty?” 

“I’m sure you know you are.” 

Dean goes lax against the wall, one of his legs stretched in front of him to show off a knee, chin ducked. 

“Perfect,” Cas says.  _ Click-click-click. _ “In the tub, please. One of your legs over the edge.” 

Dean takes the shoes off to get into the tub, then puts them back on as he arranges himself. “Like this?” 

There’s a distance when Cas takes pictures. He takes pictures mostly of people, but he feels connected to them in a different way when behind the lens. An abstract way. Not a whole person, just the connection of details in a space, just a way to tell a story. 

Cas is shocked to realize that he’s very attracted to Dean. That his brain is more than ready to supply him with the image of pushing up Dean’s skirt to uncover his cock, to touch and taste. 

“Hey,” Dean says. “You ok?” 

“Yes, of course,” Cas says. “Turn towards me and rest your head on the tile.” 

_ Click-click-click-click-click. _ When Cas stands tall to photograph Dean from above, the way the skirt has slipped to reveal the soft, pale inside of a thigh is positively obscene. 

Dean smiles. “You’re really intense.”

Cas shrugs, kneels, takes pictures of Dean’s smile. “Are you an actor?” 

“Guess so.” 

“Look strung-out for me. Like you’re on a crystal bender.” 

Dean arches an eyebrow, thinks for a second, and then slumps, head lolling, dead eyes. 

“Don’t look at me,” Cas says, and Dean shifts his eyes. “Perfect.” 

“All right,” Cas says. “I think that’s it in here. Let’s go to the bedroom.” 

“Oooh-la-la,” Dean says, grinning as he pulls off the shoes. “Now you’re really getting feisty.” 

Cas leaves without responding. Dean’s bare feet are nearly silent on the floor. “On your back on the bed, but sit up on your elbows a bit.” 

Dean goes down on his back, his legs falling open with the skirt pooling between them. Cas takes the shoes from him and drops them on the floor next to the bed, backs up to the doorway to  _ click-click-click _ the whole scene. 

“Am I supposed to be looking just-been-fucked again?” 

“Yes.” 

Dean’s hand rests on his belly, fingertips tracking a slow circle while he licks his lips. His touch skims downward, running along the top of the skirt, and he pulls his knee up just a smidgeon more. He’s the literal embodiment of debauchery, and Cas goes from shooting with an editorial eye to an erotic gaze, circling around the bed taking photo after photo. 

“Uh, Cas?” Dean says. “I’m gonna need a minute.” 

“Of course,” Cas says. “Can I get you some water?” 

“Sure,” Dean says, and then he ducks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

Cas sets his camera on the dresser. Dean’s still in the bathroom when he comes back with two bottles of water, so he skims through a couple photos. The magazine won’t publish the last fifteen minutes’ worth of shots, and Dean might even be embarrassed about them, but Cas is pleased to see Dean’s easy sensuality on screen.

The sink runs, and Dean comes back into the room. “Sorry,” he says, blushing. “You looking at me like that had me a little, uh. Worked up.” 

“Looking at you like what?” 

Dean looks down. “Are we almost done?” 

“Yes, but tell me.” 

“Obviously I’m projecting, but — like you wanted to fuck me.” 

Cas sets his camera down again. “You found that arousing?” 

Dean rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop looking contrite. “Hot guy looks at me like that, yeah, I get a hard-on.” 

Cas takes two steps closer. Dean’s expression isn’t the same performing shyness as earlier, but his eyes widen a bit and he licks his lips, nervous. Cas says, “And if I did want to fuck you?” 

“Well, uh.” Dean glances at the bed and says, “I assume this is a rented space, so maybe we shouldn’t get fluids everywhere, but… later?” 

Cas’s heart speeds up, but he tries to stay impassive. “I think I would enjoy that.” 

“Cool,” Dean says, stepping close enough to give Cas a brief kiss on the cheek. “Tonight? I’m wearing pants.” 

Cas laughs, and Dean smiles, and they trade phone numbers and Dean says he’ll be at Cas’s at eight. 

 

Dean shows up in jeans with a tear in the knee he probably paid a lot of money for and a worn-soft leather jacket. Cas is surprised that a man who looked so delicate earlier could look so rugged just hours later. 

“Hey, Cas.” 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean holds up a plastic bag smelling of burgers and fries. “Best burgers in town.” 

“Excellent,” Cas says. “Editing makes me hungry.” 

Dean follows Cas into his house and unpacks the food at the breakfast bar while Cas mixes them both Old Fashioneds. “Working on my pictures or —?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you think I could see later?” 

Cas has been working on the ones from the end, where he’d focused on Dean’s fingers brushing down the soft line of hair on his stomach, the bow of his mouth, his eyes bright even under the shadow of his eyelashes. A view from the foot of the bed, focused on the space between Dean’s legs, the rest of him blurry and golden in the background. 

“Of course. I hope you like them.” 

“I’m probably going to be embarrassed as hell, but what else is new.” 

“Because of the outfit?” 

Dean blushes, ducks his head. “I try to keep my clothes on in public.” 

“I was hoping your clothes would be coming off tonight,” Cas says. 

Dean takes two deep gulps of his drink. “Private nudity is cool.” 

Cas sits next to him at the bar, their knees bumping. Dean eats the way people who’ve been on the street eat, like he needs to get it all in his stomach before it disappears. Cas knows it’s weird to stare — people have told him that his entire life — but he can’t help it. The shadow of scruff is coming in at Dean’s jaw, his eyelashes are so long, his smile so animated. Trapping him in a single moment on film will never do him justice. 

“Am I covered in ketchup?” Dean says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

“No,” Cas says, and forces himself to look down at his own meal. 

“Are you staring because you’re a fan?” Dean says, something strange happening to his voice. Flattening. 

“I’m not. I haven’t seen your show,” Cas says. “And  _ you  _ said you were a fan of  _ me.”  _

All of Dean’s tension disappears in an instant. Dean laughs and throws a fry that bounces off Cas’s cheek, and then Dean wipes the salt away with the pad of his thumb. “Can I have your autograph?” 

Cas kisses him. 

Dean  _ mmphs  _ in surprise, then turns on the stool and drags Cas closer with a fist wrapped in the front of his shirt. 

“Jesus,” Dean says when Cas kisses down his neck. “Been wanting you all day.” 

“Is that so?” Cas says, pulling Dean’s head back by the hair. “Tell me.” 

Dean shivers and whispers, “Wanting you to —  _ take.”  _

Cas leans back to watch Dean’s lips part and eyelashes flutter when he tightens his grip in Dean’s hair. “That’s very, very tempting, but I think the taking should wait. Let’s share instead.” 

Dean drops his forehead against Cas’s shoulder and laughs and laughs. Cas laughs a little, too, though he’s not sure what at. Dean sits up straight again to give Cas a brief kiss. “You’re so fucking weird and I’m so fucking into it.” 

Cas smiles. 

Dean kisses Cas, hooking his ankles around Cas’s calves. Cas steps into the open V of his legs, sliding a hand under Dean’s shirt, up his side. Dean gasps and their kisses get hungrier. 

“Are you this intense in bed?” Dean says. “I’m not sure I’ll survive.” 

“You talk a lot.” 

“Yeah, I tend to do that when I’m nervous.” 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’ll be gentle.”

“Are you going to make me wear something special?” 

“I’d rather you wear nothing at all.” 

“I’m with you there,” Dean says, his hands going to the buttons on Cas’s shirt. 

Dean’s kisses are so good. If Cas had met him on the street, he would’ve been shocked that Dean kisses more like a woman, soft and sweet, but Cas has a hundred pictures of Dean bashful in tulle, golden in sunlight on white sheets. 

Cas grabs both of Dean’s hands to pull him standing, then crowds him down the hall into his bedroom. Dean lets Cas push him into the bed, laughing with delight, and wiggles out of his jeans with Cas’s help, and then Cas is laughing, too. 

“Ok, in my defense, Batman is awesome.” 

“And yet you knew I would see and wore them anyway.” 

“I was hoping to woo you with my nerdiness.” 

Cas leans over Dean, pushing his shirts up to reveal the softness of his belly. Dean’s cock is mostly hard already, but Cas feels it jump when he circles his tongue around Dean’s nipple, his shirts rucked up under his armpits. 

Dean is so responsive, arching upwards into Cas’s touch when he grips Dean’s cock through his boxers. Dean’s hands get a little frantic sitting up to pull off his shirts, fumbling with the rest of Cas’s clothes. Cas’s chin is tingling where Dean’s scruff rubbed while they kissed. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean says when the last of Cas’s clothes hit the floor, and Cas climbs into his lap, sharing a smile before they kiss again. 

The rough fabric of Dean’s boxers against Cas’s cock is a tease, but neither of them are inclined to separate to do something about it. Dean just grabs Cas’s hips to grind him in his lap, starting to make soft noises into Cas’s kiss. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Cas says, and Dean nods, tightens his grip around Cas’s hips and pushes him onto the bed. 

Dean has a lovely cock and he knows how to use it. He kisses a lot, anywhere he can reach, and murmurs nonsense about how good Cas feels, strokes Cas’s cock just the way Cas likes. 

After, they lay next to each other on their backs, hearts still pounding. They’re not touching until Dean slides his hand over and hooks his pinkie with Cas’s, turning his head to give him a smile. 

“Was that your first time with a man?” Cas says, even though it’s not his business. 

Dean cringes, pulling his hand away. “Shit, it was that bad?” 

“No,” Cas says, frowning. “It was fantastic. I just didn’t know if you’re out.” 

“Dude, I’m a bi icon.” 

Cas turns to face him. “So if I asked you out to dinner, that might interest you?” 

Dean smiles, wide and happy. “On one condition — I get to take pictures of you sometime. You don’t even have to wear heels.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [reallyelegantsharkfish](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com/) on tumblr & gmail, [sharkfish](https://www.pillowfort.io/sharkfish) on pillowfort
> 
> [this picture of norman reedus](https://imageserve.babycenter.com/24/000/207/fzuuZDD4uBayEw3yQqrti9KmxgXZPp8g_lg.jpg) changed my life

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [the recurrence of bath tubs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773940) by [FPwoper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FPwoper/pseuds/FPwoper)




End file.
